


lose in the fire, gain in the flood

by lightningwaltz



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Colette/Zelos/Lloyd if you squint, F/M, Missing Scene, Multi, Pre-OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 06:29:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1888452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningwaltz/pseuds/lightningwaltz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two late night conversations between the Chosen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Declining

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Etanseline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etanseline/gifts).



> Etanseline asked for fic about Zelos, Colette, or Lloyd or any of the possible relationships between the three. When I played the game again to do canon review, I ended up drawn towards Zelos and Colette because... seriously. The institution of the Chosen is both horrifying and fascinating all at once, and I wish we had gotten a few more skits between these two. As a result, this fic ended up focusing on two hypothetical conversations between these two. 
> 
> There are also hints at a future OT3 between them and Lloyd because, yep, I also ship that madly. 
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you enjoy the fic, Etanseline. The prompt was amazing, and I loved getting to spend time writing fic for one of my favorite canons AND my favorite trio!

Colette was intimidated by the variety of dials on the bathtub, but she nudged at each of them to see what they would do. The best discovery of all was one that caused warm water to pour down from the ceiling. It cascaded over her skin, and each reawakened nerve sang with pleasure. When she gave a happy little shriek, the water fell across her open lips, into her mouth. It was like standing in the rain during a warm day, but the water didn’t smell or taste of trees or mud or wind or much of anything. It wasn’t like the water from her well, either.

She tried to chastise herself for silliness. There had been a recent drought in Hima, after all, and the people there would probably weep with joy if they could also push a switch and make water appear. It was no use. Cleanliness felt too good, and the ability to move of her own volition felt even better. Every admonition melted from her mind, with the same ease of the droplets cascading towards the drain. 

She stayed there for a long, long time. Long enough for her fingers and toes to wrinkle, long enough until her hyper-alert senses could no longer smell the rot from Meltokio’s sewers. She poured shampoo over head, and massaged her scalp until she was sure her hair would gleam once it dried. The soap smelled like the kind of hard candy that made one’s eyes cross at its sour taste. After she shut off the flow of water, mist hung in the air, and fogged up the mirror. She drew a smiling face on it, and then left for her Wilder mansion guestroom.

While wrapping herself in a plush night robe, Colette mused that this room was the size of her own home’s entire first floor. Colette came n from a wealthy family that still had crests and mottos to their name. Even they would not have been able to afford anything like this. A statue of Martel sat in the corner of the room, and it was the size of a small child. Colette strode over to it, the soles of her feet conscious of every fiber in the floor. The goddess had been recently dusted, and its metallic surface was cold to the touch. 

While thinking up new prayers for a new world, Colette was distracted by a persistent itch on her arm. Probably a bug bite. She was even more distracted by the understated symphony of a household going to sleep. Deep and even breathing, conversations melting away. Clocks ticking louder, walls shifting and settling. She heard it all.

With one last glance at the idol, she left her room in search of Zelos’s chambers. She knocked on his door, and he told her to come on in. The door slid open soundlessly, and somehow his room smelled like the lavender fields near Iselia’s temple.

“Oh, hello angel.” Zelos had been the one reading the novel, apparently. He set it on a nightstand, and sat up a bit straighter to look at her. “What can I do for you?” His eyes were very, very blue in the lamplight, and Colette was suddenly very conscious of her damp hair.

“Sorry to bother you, Zelos.” He shrugged off her apology. “May I go to your kitchen? I won’t take much, I promise!”

Zelos took a second too long to answer. She wondered if talking to her also gave him the strange sensation that his reflection had started talking back to him.

“Oh, right! Yeah, I heard about all the stuff you went through for the regeneration thing. I guess anyone would be hungry after not eating for weeks.”

 _Months_ , she corrected. But only in her head.

And she didn’t think he’d forgotten what the aborted transformation entailed. Not for one instant. She had hazy memories of her time as a mute angel, and his red hair and fear-stricken face featured in many of them.

“Is that all you need?” He asked her now.

“Yes, thank you.” She closed his door as carefully as possible.

While wandering this large house, Colette felt like a ghost and not at all like an angel. Everything glowed a murky blue thanks to the small lamps affixed to the walls. The marble floors were cool against her heels, and she tried to imagine the hulking mountains that had given birth to such delicate stone. At one point, she crouched down, and traced her fingers over the swirling black waves. When her nail scratched against one of the rare nicks in the surface, her whole body seemed to recoil. Colette hurried on.

Once in the kitchen, she had to remember to flip the switch that created instant light. There was so much to explore and touch in the kitchen, and for a moment she was dazzled by the wealth of options. The cutlery, the drawers, the competing smells of tea and coffee. Fruit and vegetables. A humming, silvery box contained more meat than she saw in a year. She tried not to eat anything, but she couldn’t contain herself when she found a clear container full of tiny pastries covered in white icing. Each was crowned with a miniature carrot made of frosting. She stuffed her face with them, and her eyes burned at the riot of different flavors dancing on her tongue. Sugar, cinnamon, flour, salt, vanilla, raisin, and, yes, carrot. She thought her father would love them, too (grandma, not so much.)

After her moment of indulgence, Colette hunted around in the spice cabinet. It took a while, since the writing system in Tethe’alla was slightly different. Soon enough, she had the spices she needed, and she placed them on a small, clay platter. Carrying the newly-made prayer offerings with her, she made her way to the living room. That afternoon the spacious room had seemed almost homey. But Colette had to admit that that was probably due to all of them huddling together, drinking the tea Sebastian had given them, and talking about anything and everything but Cruxis.

With the room dark and empty, Colette found herself fixated on the portrait of Zelos’s mother. She was delicate, blonde, and her eyes stared at something far away. 

Colette set her prayer plate on the floor neat the hearth. Pushed a button on the wall- just as Zelos had demonstrated- and gasped when flames immediately roared forth from the logs. In Iselia, fire had sacred connotations. Traditions older than the hero Mithos held that the first life sprang forth from heat and lightning. 

Yet, here in Tethe’alla, it really was quite easy to create fire and light

Oh well. It had been some time since she had offered her prayers, and longer still since she had enjoyed it. She began to recite a long passage from one of the ancient texts. After completing a verse, she would toss the sacred spices into the fireplace. Every time she was ushered into the temple, every time she went to someone’s home to pray over their newborn baby, the air smelled exactly like this after this ritual. Thus, with her knees digging into a foreign carpet, her lungs breathing the air of an entirely different world, the smoke on her tongue still tasted like home. Below the comfort of familiar words, her spirit- the Goddess within- formed the primal prayers of her heart. As always, she hungered for the safety and happiness of everyone she knew. She pictured their faces as she went; her friends from Iselia, their strange new companions from Tethe’alla. Even Kratos.

Tonight, there was something new. A kind of hunger to experience the future and all it had to offer. Something had taken root within her, and she worried it would be difficult to snuff it out.

When the last handful of spice made its way into the flames, she whispered a final few words to seal her prayer. She stood up, waiting for feeling or taste to desert her once more. But it didn’t happen. She rubbed her wet cheeks on her robes, and she could smell her tears on the cloth. She remembered that salt was sacred, too. She whispered her thanks, and was glad to find she hadn’t lost her voice, either.

“This room already has an air freshener, you know.”

Colette nearly toppled over. She looked up, to find Zelos seated on one of the highest steps. She couldn’t quite make out his expression, but his posture didn’t suggest anger.

“I’m so sorry!” She squeaked, feeling blood rush to her face. With each beat of her heart, she was sure her face became more and more red. “I tried to be quiet. I really did.”

Zelos rose to his feet, and began walking downstairs. “Oh, you blush too. You really are perfect.”

The young men of her village tended to aim this sort of language at the women they were courting. Every so often, young visitors to Iselia would call her pretty. Praise her hair (which she liked) or praise her shyness (which she didn’t like.) Above all, it had been like some sort of impenetrable dialect. She was never meant to marry, after all.

“Now you’re speechless?” Zelos resumed sitting, this time on the couch. Everything about him suggested he was no hurry to leave. “I can’t say I blame you, considering who’s keeping you company.”

It made her giggle, in spite of herself.

"It's just that I get distracted," she explained, still filled up with words after her prayers. "Ever since I got my senses back, it's like I experience everything ten times stronger than it actually is."

"Holy crap. And the first we did was drag you through the sewers. I'm so sorry."

“It’s okay. It was the only way in to the city. And it’s not like I was the only one who was grossed out!” There was no good way to explain that she was grateful for the sting of the blisters on feet. Earlier, when she'd burned her tongue on tea, she'd wanted to cheer. The next time she was disgusted by bell pepper, she’d probably cry with joy (before spitting it out.)

“How long were you watching me just now?” She asked, suddenly curious. She sat in the space beside him on the couch. 

“A while.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. He tilted his head to stare up at her, but Colette found her eyes tracing the angles of his arms. He had abandoned his white surcoat, and she could make out his shape better in this sleeveless black shirt. “Keeping tabs on you is still a habit, I guess, even though I’m persona non grata right in Meltokio now. But, yeah, it didn’t take me long to realize you were just praying.”

The cushions were comfortable beneath her legs, and she released that the floral smell in his room had been shampoo. They’d never been quite this close before, and Colette wondered what would happen if she reached over and touched his skin. The part of her that took superstition to heart wondered if both words to shatter. 

“You kept watching?” she said. “I bet it was boring.”

“Not at all. New stuff is always interesting.”

“Right.” Colette nodded. Of course it would be a curiosity for him. “That was one they had me do all the time in Sylvarant, but you probably have different prayers. That makes sense.”

Zelos let out a hearty snicker. If someone drew his portrait now, Colette was sure that he’d look as distant as his mother’s portrait.

“It was a novelty to me because I never really pray, Colette.”

This was strange. Like the feeling she got whenever one of Professor Sage’s questions stumped her. “They don’t have you bless people ever?”

Zelos smirked. Clearly the answer was no.

“The pope and his crew do that kind of stuff.” He combed a hand through his hair. Colette inspected her own damp tresses, stopping when she realized she was inadvertently mimicking him. “Mostly people just focus on keeping me alive. I think big old public religious fests make it that much harder to do crowd control.”

“People want to assassinate you?” Colette chewed on the inside of her cheek. Goddess, even the taste of blood was galvanizing! “That makes no-…” She paused, mulled it over, decided there was logic to it. There hadn't be a journey of regeneration here in living memory, but the institution of the Chosen still wielded a considerable amount of power. In that context, there would be many reasons to kill someone like Zelos, and very few to keep him alive.

She reached over, and took his wrist in her hands. Just like she did for any pilgrim that came to her home. The world didn’t crumble, despite this paradoxical joining. In many respects, it was just like holding Lloyd’s hand. Just another person, with their pulse hammering against her thumb.

“It must have been so lonely for you,” she said. “I’m sorry."

Zelos’s mouth opened, and closed, and then he carefully drew his hand away. Like he might push a switch on her, and they'd _both_ go up in flames.

“Aw, hunny, I was just exaggerating.” He smiled. Smiled and smiled and smiled. “To tell you the truth, the main reason I don’t do that kind of stuff is because I’m lazy. Not being killed is just an extra benefit.”

Colette looked towards the fire. It truly was incredible how it smelled like wood smoke, even though she knew the logs were fake. She understood why Zelos felt the need to wear an armor-like grin, and she wouldn’t deprive him of the safety it provided.

“What about you, though?” Whenever Zelos stopped smirking, the angles of his face gave him a kind of severity that belied his outer persona. He became even more beautiful in Colette's eyes. “I guess you could be secure in knowing no one would assassinate you. But I can’t even imagine knowing for sure that I would be dead before I was… what? Sixteen?” 

“I was… I was sixteen before I left.” Colette held her hands to her temples. Her skin was icy to the touch.

“Right. Because that makes everything okay. Seriously though, everyone told me you went on the journey cheerfully. Some of them didn’t even know you were gonna die! I don’t know how you could have been so at peace with that.” 

“To be honest, I’m not sure I even know what peace _is_.”

Though, as she said this, she thought that maybe peace looked a lot like this exact moment. Two near-strangers sitting side-by-side and recognizing something familiar in each other.

Colette didn’t know what expressions had passed over her face. She just scratched at the weird, uncomfortable spot on her arm.

“So, you had mixed feelings about the journey.” Zelos spread his arms out on the back of his couch. Colette though he could touch the back of her neck, if he moved his hand just a little. “But you had your mind made up to do it anyway.”

“I… Yes. Yes.”

“Lloyd was the one who wanted to save you, right? Sometimes I think that makes him kind of cruel.”

“Excuse me?” Colette didn’t put conscious thought into it. One minute she was on the couch, the next she was on her feet.

Zelos’s latest outburst of laughter was more like startled yelp. He maneuvered her back onto the couch. “Easy, Colette. I haven’t made up my mind on him.”

“Can you explain what you meant at least?” As Colette asked this, she wondered how he knew she had objected to his assessment of Lloyd. Not the implication that her survival was unwanted.

He sighed. “The system of the Chosen is bullshit, frankly, but you had made up your mind to go through with it. That takes a lot of guts, no matter what you might say. And then Lloyd comes along and says, ‘hey, no way, your sacrifice is meaningless and I’m going to prove it.’ It's just kind of cruel to dangle the possibility of something else in front of you.”

Colette thought of the day of the oracle. When the pastor of her youth died in agony at her feet. It had been an ugly death, with blood burbling from the man’s lips, and his skin going waxy and gray. Colette’s upcoming sacrifice had been painted in the most glorious terms. But each night, as everyone slept around her, she wondered if her martyrdom would render her into a meaningless, rotting corpse. 

“No,” she decided. “I see what you mean, but… No. Lloyd isn’t like that. I don’t know how to explain it, but please keep watching him. You'll see what I mean.”

“Okay. I’ll be as objective as possible.” Zelos patted her on the knee, just as the clock bonged some late hour. “And you should sleep. Seriously.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, matching her cheeriness to his. Like they were two partners in a dance. 

_I just want to stay near the fire for a few moments…_

When she woke again, she sensed that it was a few hours from daylight. Zelos was gone, and she understood why. If he was anything like her (and he was, he _was_ ), then heartfelt conversation left him giddy and light-headed all at once.

She heard Lloyd wandering around upstairs long before he descended the staircase. Lately, he had the habit of gaping at her like she would evaporate.

"Okay, good." She didn't have to ask him why he was so happy. "But how'd you end up out down here?" Lloyd asked. "Don't tell me you're still not able to sleep? I can make sure the runes on your key crest are -" 

"No, I just get excited being able to move around again. And then last night Zelos and I ended up down here chatting." That was when she noticed that someone had draped a blanket over her. 

"Zelos?" Lloyd said, the perfect picture of confusion. And possibly ambivalence "Oh, right. Chosen stuff?" 

"Yep." She chuckled at the perfect succinctness of the phrase _Chosen stuff_ until Lloyd said she was being weird. He sounded relieved about that, too. 

She made her way back to her guestroom. When she slipped out of her robes, her eyes landed on the spot where she was sure she'd gotten a bug bite. There, her skin had transformed into a green, perfectly shiny crystal. She sucked in a breath, as she took in the sight. Around the gem, her skin was cracked. Red and angry. When she tapped her fingers against the crystal, she felt nothing at all.


	2. Flourishing

Lloyd snoozed away next to Zelos, his mouth wide open, legs and arms sprawled out _everywhere_. Something about his face reminded Zelos of how Lloyd looked while making Colette’s keycrest. Focused, and tranquil. 

He could handle their close proximity, but Zelos's heart really twisted in on itself when he contemplated the nature of sleep. It sure took a lot of faith to be okay with sleeping next to someone. Yet here they were, burrowed into the sheets, with Lloyd at rest and comfortable exactly where he was. 

It was like drinking too much liquor, and drinking it fast. When Zelos twisted out of their bed, he wanted to crumple to the floor and sleep it off. He wanted to run until his feet gave way and he soared up into the stratosphere. Instead, he slipped into the hallways outside the bedroom, and fumbled against the wall for a light switch. When he remembered he was in Sylvarant, he shoved his fist against his mouth to stifle jumpy laughter. 

The Brunels’ house wasn’t as achingly idyllic as Lloyd’s place, but Zelos never minded staying here. Iselia’s mayor might scowl, but Colette’s family always welcomed her back into her home. They'd murmur some prayers, touch her face like it was made of glass, and praise her in their laconic way. They'd throw open their doors for each of the Chosen's companions, allowing them to stay in the extra bedrooms frequently offered to pilgrims (two to a bed, since their place was small.) And Zelos, for his part, liked watching Colette in her childhood environment. She'd pull on hardy robes of blue and white, and comb her hair so that it tumbled down her back like a priestess's veil. Today, when their group had once again shown up on the Brunels’ doorstep, her taciturn father had held her hands between his own, and murmured a cure spell. Colette's skin had immediately gained a healthier glow, and she’d been ravenous at dinner.

Every so often in this house, if he was quiet and contemplative enough, it was easy to pretend he’d grown up _here_ instead. He floated around in that fantasy, pacing to and fro and then down the stairs.

"-and until then, we'll just have to do what we can for her."

"You're right."

Zelos paused on the second to last step, pretty sure he was hidden behind the wall. Many years ago, there had been a period of time in which servants of Wilder mansion had been prone to late-night whispering. A few weeks later, Zelos had been informed that he had a little sister (he couldn't remember which parent had told him.) Ever since then, he'd become downright avaricious at any hint of secretive conversation. It was, in his estimation, where all the world's hidden truths lay coiled in wait.

"All the same, though..." That was definitely Colette's father.

"Yes, Frank?" Phaidra didn't strike him as very inquisitive in that particular moment. More like she was trying to coax out things she already knew.

"Suppose there isn't a way to save her and both planets." It was a question many people had asked, but each time it took on a different context for Zelos. "What then?"

There was a pause, and Zelos wondered if they could hear his heart pummeling his rib cage.

"We don't know that it's hopeless," Phaidra said at last. "I'd like to think it isn't."

Frank sighed. A ragged, gusty sound. "It’s selfish of me, but ever since the possibility was raised... I've gotten attached to the idea of having her around. It was awful enough sending her away before. I don't think I could survive if she had to go through that again."

"Is your faith faltering?" When Tethe'alla's pope said things like this, it usually preceded some poor bastard being thrown into the dungeon. There was something archaic about hearing it in the form of an honest question. 

"I'm not sure. What good is a religion that demands the death of a child?" There was a twin set of thumps, and Zelos was pretty sure the man had just slammed his elbows on the table and placed his face in hands. "I know I'm being hypocritical just because she's my child. But we both did _everything_ everyone said. I tried to be distant from her, I tried to follow the pastors' advice. But... You know Colette as well as I do. She's an easy person to love."

There it was, again. That twisty, intoxicated feeling in his veins. He shied away from the rest of the conversation, slinking back up the stairs and hoping they wouldn't creak. He couldn't hear Phaidra's precise words but he could tell by the timbre of her voice that she was agreeing with Frank.

When he reached the second story, he found the hallway glowing orange and blue. Colette stood in her doorway, and she had been smart enough to light a candle. The small flame danced, sending shadows that pulsed in patterns that reminded Zelos of sunlight over ocean waves.

"I had a feeling you were up," Colette murmured. There was always an apology lurking beneath her words, but lately she seemed to be suppressing it. "Are you doing okay? I know Lloyd's legs can get cold."

It wasn’t something Zelos would know; he’d been careful to not drift an inch from his side of the bed, careful not to collide into Lloyd in any way. Like there’d been a border dividing their mattress, and he’d need travel papers to traverse it.

"I can't sleep," he said, realizing that that was the fundamental truth of his situation. Colette nodded, and Zelos was glad her gaze was focused once more. For a few days after being possessed by Martel, her eyes had been cloudy and indirect. Like she’d just had a concussion.

"You can come and chat with me for a while," she said. Her nightgown had once been long, but the hem stopped a few inches from her ankles. Maybe she'd grown out of it. 

"Of course," he said, amazed she’d spend time with him after his stunt at the Tower of Salvation. "Can't deny a woman when she's so polite," he added, a bit too late. Damn, he really was slipping.

Colette smiled, and then ushered him into her bedroom. She had left her window open, and it reminded Zelos that each world had opposite seasons. Late autumn breezes gusted through the windows, carrying the scent of smoke and rotting leaves. There was something about the chilly air that hinted at the oncoming winter season and for several heartbeats he wished he was back in Tethe'alla. There, spring was in full bloom and winter was a long-forgotten memory.

"Your dad's pretty cool," he said.

Colette stared, tilted her head. Tried to puzzle him out. "I'm glad he's nice to you. Sometimes people think he's mean, but he's actually just quiet."

A bewildering amount of _stuff_ littered Colette’s room. Picture frames, toys, coins from different cities, pinwheels, idols made of clay... There was a tapestry on each wall, and none of them matched with the others. 

"Gifts from pilgrims to Iselia," she said, and for a second her smile soured. "They always wanted to stop by here, to... To wish me well. Too bad I let them down."

“Hey, so! Change of topic!” Zelos gestured towards her jewelry box, without really thinking about it. It was the first thing he’d seen. "The stuff in there is nice."

"Oh!" Her grin came back, brighter than the candle she held. "Those are birthday gifts from Lloyd." She picked up a necklace, holding its pendant at the level of her eyes. 

Zelos stepped a bit closer, scrutinizing the jewelry. Colette had the chain looped around her pale fingers, and he was sure its pattern would leave spherical marks on her skin. Even from a distance, he could see the complex design; Lloyd sure knew what he was doing. The jewels were nothing that the nobles of Meltokio would choose to wear, but it wasn’t like jewels (semi-precious or otherwise) were in plentiful in Iselia. Lloyd- and probably Genis- had taken the time to got down there in the dirt, sifting at the earth, patiently working until the earth yielded glittering gems. All to make her something unique and worth keeping.

"Don't tell him, since, you know. It would ruin my image and all, but... its nice."

"Isn’t it, though? I've always had good birthdays ever since I met Lloyd and Genis."

"Even your latest birthday?"

"Especially that one."

She put the necklace away, and set her candle on the table. While she turned her head away from him, he saw that her hair was in a very loose braid. She hadn't put any sort of tie on it, and it was unraveling, loop by loop, with each movement.

"I really liked what they did to my hair, you know, for that party? After we helped you find Princess Hilda," she said, after he asked her about it. She sat down on the bed, looking up at him. "I tried recreating it just now, but it didn't go so well. It's actually pretty hard!"

"I've gotten pretty good at it over the years," Zelos said. "Probably because I'm a genius."

"You should braid my hair, then," she said, patting the mattress. "Er. If you want to, I mean."

He snickered. “Uh oh, this is getting risqué. Aren’t you going to call your chaperon in?” he joked about it, dodging the strange intimacy of the moment. Colette mumbled something under her breath, before trilling off into helpless giggles.

With a careful touch, he undid Colette's work. Her blonde tresses tumbled over his hands, and he noticed that they felt exactly like his own. Same texture, same smooth glide through his fingers. Candlelight seemed to settle in the exact same places.

"Apparently perfect hair is the true gift of the Chosen," he said.

"I just wish my hair was wavy," she confessed. "I'm always staring at yours."

"Good, you’re learning how to flirt,” he said, shaking his head. He’d once thought her merciless frankness was some feature of Sylvarant’s culture. Now he knew that this was unique to Colette (and Lloyd.) “Staring at me, huh… Is that why- no, don't turn you head, you'll end up with lopsided hair- is that you're always falling down in battle?"

"Hey! I fall down less than I used to... I think"

He parted her hair into the proper segments, before getting down to work. Their conversation circled around various subjects; rheiard maintenance, casino prizes in Altamira, Colette's love for the radio in Tethe'alla, and whether food from Asgard was boring or not. All the while, Zelos’s hands flew, and Colette's braid took form. He tried to approach Colette's hair the same way Lloyd made jewelry; with painstaking care.

But with her back to him, it was far too easy to remember holding her in the Tower of Salvation. The sword at her throat, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He hadn't needed to see her horrified face; it had been mirrored in the expressions of their companions.

"Zelos?"

"I'm sorry." He'd apologized multiple times to her before, but this was the first time he'd done so while they were alone. He tied a hair band around the end of her braid. "I don't regret deceiving Cruxis, but I'm still sorry I dragged you into it. I knew that scaring you would be part of the facade. And I did it anyway. I didn't expect them to successfully channel Martel, either, but I knew that was a possibility too. I really am sorry."

"I get it," she said. "It was something that had to be done." And Zelos supposed that she, more than anyone else, was qualified to understand.

He dug his palms into the bed, and leaned back. Outside, he could hear owls hooting, and insects chattering. He couldn't deal with her selfless compassion, but he knew full well that he'd hate it even more if she despised him. 

"You meant some of it though," she said, her fingers playing with the ribbon on her hair.

"What? No! By the time we got to the Tower, there was no way I was going to turn on you guys."

"Mmm, no." Colette shook her head. "I mean the other stuff you said. About your life being a joke, and wanting Seles to be the Chosen." Her smile was an empty curve. "I know that good lies have some truth behind them."

"Oh." The candle flickered out, leaving the moon as their only source of light. The two of them scarcely noticed. "I did want out, no matter what it took. For years and years, that's what I've wanted."

"And Seles?"

"She would be a much better Chosen. Seles gets sick a lot, but she's so smart. And her magic skills are incredible. Cruxis said they'd transfer the title to her, and I jumped at the chance." Seles was sacred territory, but somehow, here in the dark, it was okay to talk about her.

"Then that's what you should be sorry for," Colette reached out, holding tight onto his upper arms. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I know that it’s really hard for Tethe’alla’s Chosen,” Colette said, as if she hadn't almost died for Sylvarant. "I can tell from the things you tell me, and the things you _don’t_ tell me. As the Chosen, you'd get her out of the abbey but she'd still be in a prison... Don’t you think?” 

"Yeah..." As the Chosen, Seles would be hailed and cherished in the way she deserved. Her other inheritance would be an empty mansion, false companions, and nights where she'd lie awake wanting to scream from the loneliness. "Yeah, I can see that."

"I don't doubt that Seles is as talented as you say, but I think she deserves to do what _she_ wants with them. In the new kind of future we're building." She shook him once, and then twice. Probably for good measure. “You deserve the same too, okay?” 

Zelos doubled over laughing, as a way to catch his breath. He ended up staring at Colette's shoulder. By the moonlight he could tell she was truly free of being devoured by a cruxis crystal, but she would still have the faintest smattering of fractal scars. "I come here to apologize to you, and you just make me feel good about myself."

"I'm glad!" Colette exclaimed, pulling away from him. But she didn't relight the candle, and he didn't leave the room.

The conversation drifted to lighter topics, and easy silence. There was a moment when he blinked, opened his eyes, and found the sun peaking up just outside the window. He noted, with some amusement, that the sky was as pink as many of his clothes.

And then he noticed he was still in Colette’s room, and she was in the doorway chatting away with Lloyd. For a moment or two, he could only blink and stare at Lloyd and Colette's hands. She still had on some of the red nail polish from attending Princess Hilda’s party, even though bits of it began to flake away. As for Lloyd, his keycrest gleamed a welcoming shade of gold, and he handed Colette a mug of coffee. She laughed, he apologized, and Zelos realized that they were reenacting an inside joke. Once, he would have been jealous but resigned. Now it warmed him to the core, like he was floating in the beach at Altamira.

"What the hell?" It was the correct response to _everything_ , lately.

“Ah, I’m sorry, did we wake you up?” 

_Okay, so Colette still apologizes sometimes._

"Was it so bad sleeping with me?" Lloyd joked, seemingly oblivious that that could be taken for innuendo.

"Nah," Zelos said, not taking the (accidental?) bait. "Colette and I just had to work out some stuff, that's all."

"Oh, okay." Lloyd nodded. And then; "more Chosen stuff?"

"Yep!" Zelos said, while Colette cracked up. Lloyd looked back and forth between the two of them, as though he could never get his fill of staring at them. As thought Zelos's and Colette's genuine laughter put everything in his world at ease.


End file.
